You are Free
by Phantom-Phreak-454
Summary: Love is lost to a cage. Darkness closes in, compressing... Squeezing... Choking... Can one Angel save a broken man's life? Can she destroy anothers? Five years after the fire of the Opera Populaire, the story continues... On hold for now!
1. You are Free

**You are Free**

She panted. She ran. She ran some more. And yet, it still seemed so far away… So distant, when the flapping corner of the tent was just within a few paces. Her hood was drawn up, pale flesh hidden by a dark blue velvety fabric that encased her like a shadow… Where she longed to be. The ill-fated looking tent was bright orange and red; flames from torches flickered on the inside, casting ominous shadows on the outside, while the not-so-merry jingle of chains, the snap of a whip, and the cheers of a crowd sounded. Within moments, absolute silence filled that place, before a scream erupted, and more cheering…

She had been warned of this place. She had been told never to come here, _never _to enter this most evilest of camps… And yet… She had. For love. For true love, love that never stopped, love that consumed her mind and body and made her yearn for the touch of those hands again. Pure, unconditional love. A hesitant smile had made it's way to her lips, pale flesh trembling as the flap of the tent was drawn back and at least twenty people paraded out. Some were pale, others were giggling nervously, while still others looked like they had seen the devil himself.

There was a tinkle of coins, and raucous laughter that soon faded into nothing. It was replaced by the heavy breathing of another, and the sounds of agonized shifting across the filthy floor of that person's 'home'. A breathless bout of laughter was bubbling up inside of her, but she held it back, biting her tongue as her eyes took in the sight, not yet wishing to glance at the thing of center attention. The tent was what it looked like from the outside. The ground was packed down dirt and mud, strewn with hay and straw that was rather disgusting looking. As her chocolaty brown eyes swept across the rather revolting sight, they came upon the edge of metal.

Slowly, very slowly, the woman's eyes traveled upwards, studying the rusty bars and aging cage that stood alone in the middle of the room. Shadows covered the back half, while torchlight illuminated the rest of the bars. And from the shadows, she could see a pair of molten, almost gold colored eyes, studying her intently, before they looked away almost lazily… Yet, at the same time, shamefully. Lowering her hood, the female made quite sure that the tent was closed behind her, before she stepped into a pool of light. There was silence for some time; words would not form on her tongue, though she certainly wished they would.

She was trembling still, her eyes blinking and staring innocently as the silence carried on. It was shattered by a soft, yet very deep and velvety smooth voice that stirred with danger and anger. "The show is over, Mademoiselle." She shivered. She knew that voice. And she knew it well. It had haunted her dreams for over the past five years… Slowly, she shook her head, her curls falling across her cheeks and forehead as her pale but beautiful lips pulled up into a smile. "Nay, good sir. 'Tis not quite what I came for…" The smile slid off her lips like water as a form leapt from the shadows, hitting the sides of the bars angrily as the calm voice became an animal snarl.

"Then _leave_, Mademoiselle." A pair of large hands, calloused, and worn gripped the bars tightly. They flowed downwards into wrists, and past that, elbows and shoulders, to come to the face that she had yearned to see for so very long. But the face she saw now was not what she expected. The lips were twisted into a sneer and a snarl, his white teeth bared into a growl that sent shivers down her spine. But she held strong, watching, studying the being that was kept behind the bars of the cage. As she held up a hand in an almost loving expression, the man behind the cage growled threateningly. "I told you to leave, Mademoiselle. Turn around, and _do not_ come back."

She did not listen. Her chocolate eyes were still drinking in the sight of the man, the Angel that had haunted her dreams and mind for so long. The sharp jaw line, dusted in a rough dark brown beard (that was just starting to grow back in), the dimple in the strong chin… The harshly cut cheekbone, and the fine nose… And those lips… Oh, Lord… The lips, so smooth, so enchanting and full. Her mouth went dry, her tongue darting out to wet her own lips as she stared, her eyes slowly moving up to the one place that begged for attention. She gasped, and took a step or two back in shock. Those beautiful eyes, the smoky jade colour that screamed confidence and… Loathing? Yes.

Absolute hatred and loathing swam deep in those breathtaking eyes, frustration and anger bordering on confusion as to why the woman would not leave him be. Why did she enter, alone of all things, when everyone else had quite clearly left? Was she truly that brave, to face the Devil's son himself? Rage was very evident across his features, as her eyes slowly traveled downwards and to the right… Ah… And so she saw. Strangely enough, however, she eyes did not widen. The maiden did not pale, she did not scream or drop dead into a faint upon the floor. Nay, she looked upon him as though she looked upon any other human… Almost… With adoration… NO. T'was not true! He was letting his thoughts run wild again… Shaking his head, the figure growled furiously and gripped the bars tighter.

"If you are not here for a show, and you will not leave, then tell me, dearest, why on Earth you would choose to come here alone."

At first, she did not answer. No, rather, her eyes kept sweeping across his face in broad strokes, taking in the stretched and twisted flesh of the right side of his nose, the sunken and drooped right eye, the areas of skin where blue veins and bones showed through… Then, slowly, her voice, that sweet, heavenly sound, rang out again.

"I come to find the man I love."

A bitter bout of laughter followed her words, as the man in the cage tipped back his head and roared with those deep, horribly sarcastic sounds. "I do believe you have the wrong cage. Now, if you will excuse me…" As he turned his back, beginning to crawl back towards the shadows, panic beyond anything suddenly grasped at her chest, squeezing until suddenly, she cried out. "NO!" The man paused, his head tipped to the side, his shackled hands curling into fists as he shifted on his knees to look back at her.

"No?," he whispered, his eyes flaring and burning as she bit her lower lip until blood could be tasted. "No," she nodded, her voice quivering as the man in the cage glared at her. "The man I love is in _this_ cage, and I intend to get him out." A startled expression crossed his face, as he paused for a moment, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, mounting distrust, until finally… "I am the only man in this cage, if you please. You _do_ have the wrong tent, so please, _get out_."

Again, she shook her head, as he gave an exasperated sigh. "It is _you_ I come for, _you_ my sweet Angel… My loving tutor… My friend… My Phantom…" He paused again, his head cocked to the side, his eyes flickering with confusion, anger, frustration, and utter and complete hopelessness. "_Me_?" She nodded, a smile growing on her lips. "You." But again, another bout of laughter, as he finally shook his head and turned away. This time, no words were spoken, as he crawled back to the safety of his shadows, of where he belonged… "Erik! Your back! It is bleeding!" At this, he rounded on her, his eyes round in shock and disbelief.

"What did you say?"

"I said, your back, it's-"

"No, before that…"

"Erik?"

He stared, nodded, narrowed his eyes, and then snarled. "Who ARE you?" His hands were shaking, his body trembling with frustration as she merely smiled at him. "It is I, Erik… You know me… Come now… You have not forgotten so easily…" All she got was a blank stare. Erik's beautiful eyes were swirling in confusion, his face furrowed in concentration, until… "No. I do not know you." Shaking his head, his face was just being hidden in the shadows once more, when her words shocked him down to his very core, a failing, barely flickering light now. "It is I! Christine Daae, you're student, you're pupil, you're _love_."

He had frozen up. Erik had stopped, his body tense, his back turned to her, on his hands and knees, crawling in agony back to his spot. But she had seen it. She had seen it all, and she knew he remembered. He remembered… He knew… "Erik… My love…" Whilst he had just been shocked to his core, she too received it moments later. "Mademoiselle, I _do not know you_. Now please, leave me alone." Frustrated, tears welling up in her eyes, Christine gripped the bars of the cage bravely, and called to him. "What do you mean, you do not know me? What cruel joke do you play, Erik? You _do_ know me, you _do_ remember me, so please, stop pretending! You are hurting me, Erik, don't you see?" Tears fell steadily down her cheeks, as all she received was a cold shoulder and a harsh, 'sorry' back again. Finally, she snapped.

"ERIK, STOP PRETENDING! IT IS NO GAME! IT IS NO MIND ILLUSION! IT IS REAL! IT IS ME!"

She stood, panting, her hair having fallen into her face, her eyes burning as Erik turned back to her, staring, his face utterly expressionless. She hated when he did that. She hated how he kept her from his emotions, from his thoughts, while he could read her as easily as an open book…

"Mademoiselle, shouting like a spoiled child will do nothing to get me out."

"Erik…"

"I play no mind games, miss. Leave, please, before you are hurt."

"I came to find you…"

"I do not know you."

"Of course you do, Erik, you _loved_ me! Stop pretending, please!"

"I have never loved anybody."

"Angel, this is no game! This is no illusion, no silly joke!"

"_I don't know you_."

"Angel, Erik, Maestro, my guardian, my-"

"I DON'T KNOW YOU!"

By now, Erik had climbed to his feet, slowly, agonizingly, gripping the cage bars tightly, his face so close to her own… She could easily spot the tear stains, the dirt, blood and sweat smudges across his once perfectly clean face… "What have they done to you…?" Christine's eyes flooded with tears, her hand sneaking through the bars of the cage to openly caress his cheek as he shut his eyes, swallowing, quiet and- "No." Wrenching back from her touch, Erik shied away from the cage, the chains about his ankles and wrists jingling as he shook his head. "You are not real."

"Erik, of course I am, I am here… I am real… I came to find you…"

Again, the man shook his head, his own tears flooding his eyes now as he gasped for breath, turning his face away… "No… Stop… Please…" Moaning in pain, the former Phantom sank to his knees, holding the sides of his head in his hands as he trembled and shook. With a start, he caught the sound of a rusty creak, and turned his face back to look at the open cage door, and a welcoming Christine standing within the way. Slowly, she came forwards, taking his wrists in her warm, soft hands… The key she held unlocked the chains, as she brushed her smooth lips across the red, irritated skin. His ankles were unshackled, the edges of his dirty trousers brushing the chains as she dropped them to the floor.

"You are free, my Angel… Come… Fly with me… Leave this place…"

And true to her word, Christine took both of his large hands, and slowly raised him to stand at his full height. She stood on her tiptoes, her lips brushing his ever so gently, her eyes fluttering shut as she drew away, smiling. Erik needed no further persuasion. Five long years, he had suffered, forgetting about her, about his life, falling to the sins of Gypsies once more… And now, here she stood, offering him freedom. He seized it, immediately.

"Yes, my love."

** THE END**


	2. All I Ask of You

**All I Ask of You**

Originally, it was my idea to start this one-shot as just that- A one-shot, E/C fan fiction. Fortunately, from the reviews that I gathered, they were able to change my mind. And so, I've decided to continue on with the story- explaining how they got to where they were, and what shall happen to them in the future.

Disclaimer- I don't own Phantom of the Opera. Or Erik. Or Christine. -tear-

Thanks to all the wonderful reviews! You all make my day. 3

"Erik, please… Stop moving… You're only making it worse."

Her teeth sank into her lower lip, trying to halt the tremble in the pale flesh as the clothe she held in her shaking hand ran gently across the wound again. All she received was an audible growl and another shift from the man that sat before her. They both faced a mirror, but she knew he dared not look up; mirrors were just another nuisance, just another reminder of a cruel past that had left marks- physically and mentally. She could clearly see the way his hands gripped the edge of the dresser, the tensed but wiry muscles of the rather thin looking being before her as she rubbed the clothe across the smear of blood. Another growl, followed by a hiss, and finally, he stilled again, allowing her to continue.

"You really should be still, Erik… Come now, it can't hurt that badly…"

In a daring motion, she saw a pair of smoky golden green eyes glare at her from the mirror, his face raised as he gave her a sneer. "Speak for yourself," was the answer she got. Sighing softly, Christine dabbed again at the wound, nearly ready to smack the man that jumped in his seat. "You know, I shall have to tie you down if you continue like this." Another glare, and more silence, except the strained breathing of the wounded man before her. The scars down his back still dripped blood, but thankfully, they seemed to be healing quite well. Sort of. They had stopped oozing the red liquid some time ago, except for the odd moment when she pressed down too hard. Or when he bucked beneath her touch angrily.

The man that she had taken from the cage had been kind, gentle, staring at her in awe as she raised him to his feet and led him away from the world he had come to know for the past five years. The man that sat before her now was the same man that had snarled at her _through_ the bars of the cage- before she had gotten him out. Trust? Bah. Erik didn't trust. She could easily spot that through the way he tensed beneath her touch, and the way he hissed and snarled when she ran her fingers gently and lovingly across his ripped up skin. _'My poor Erik… What have they done to you?'_

"I need to dress the wounds… Will you at least allow me to do that?" For a moment or two, Erik stared at her suspiciously, his eyes narrowed in distaste, before slowly, he gave a curt nod. Christine seemed to relax visibly, her shoulders lowering and her breathing calming as she tried on a quick smile. "Good. Now, please, for the sake of yourself, _stay still_." Her mood had lightened, it seemed, as she turned around to fetch the medicine and dressings she had gotten from the hotel manager she had recently met. But when she turned, Erik was nowhere in sight. "Erik!" Slamming the items down onto the dresser's counter, Christine fumed to herself, staring around the room to find wherever the Hell that man had gotten off to.

"Erik, I've lost you once already, I won't play this game anymore! You can't keep hiding whenever I turn my back!" Honestly! The man was so childish at some points, it was damn near frustrating! Folding her arms over her chest, she sank down onto the bed, only to jump up with a squeal. She had sat on a pair of feet. Turning her head, Christine was astonished to see Erik sitting there, his back propped up against the head board, his hands resting calmly upon his now clean trousers (also given to her from the hotel manager). At first, pure relief hit her, but moments later, swift anger took over. "I _do_ have to tie you down, don't I?" He merely blinked, his smoky jade eyes holding anger and frustration to her behalf. Walking backwards, her eyes kept fiercely upon him, Christine bent down to her bag, and reached into it, her eyes still trained upon the man that glared back at her loathingly.

When she stood back up again, there was a few of her chemises in her hands. Clumsily, and slowly, Christine tied them together, holding them with knots as Erik's glare turned to a look of surprise. When she came towards him, he shuffled backwards slightly, his lips turned into a sneer. "You wouldn't dare." Ah. But she would. Within ten minutes, Erik was lying on his front, struggling fiercely, while she straddled his knees from the back, and found the clothe and medicine that had been forgotten. "Let me go!" Yanking on the binds that held his wrists to the head board, a wild look appeared in his eyes as he growled again. "Let me go, woman! I refuse to obey you! YOU DO NOT OWN ME! LET ME GO!" It was no use. No food, no water, and nothing to keep him as healthy as he had been before had weakened him (much to his dismay). She had overpowered him far too easily. The medicine burned as she rubbed the cream into his flesh, her eyes as fierce looking as his as he arched his back and roared. "LET ME GO!" Of course, she wouldn't listen. Love did strange things to people… Another fifteen minutes of his struggling, and Christine had managed to get the bandages on. Badly, albeit, but they were done. Erik lay beneath her now, panting, his eyes shut as he gasped for breath, both from the pain and the struggle he had put up.

Climbing off the back of his legs, Christine reached up to the head board and undid his wrists, watching as he rubbed them fiercely, before rolling over to glare at her again. "That was completely unnecessary, Erik. If you had just stayed still, that wouldn't have happened." The man on the bed sat up slowly, uncertainly, staring at her with wide eyes as she sank down to sit upon the edge of the mattress. Uneasily, Erik shifted over further, moving away from her as she held her hands in her lap. "I'm sorry, Erik… I'm so sorry… I know it hurts, and I shouldn't have done it, but you can be so stubborn sometimes…" Raising her pale face, she felt her cheeks flush from embarrassment as tears streaked down from her eyes. Erik's hardened features seemed to soften, and grow a bit lighter, as he achingly crawled forwards to meet her. After letting his feet touch the floor, the man hesitantly took her hand, stroking over her knuckles with his calloused thumb as she smiled.

"You're just as I remembered, Erik… You haven't changed so much…"

Erik countered with a tiny smile, just barely flickering across his lips before it disappeared. "You have. I don't think you would have been strong enough or determined enough to tie me down in the past…" Christine giggled softly, her lips turning into a smile that melted his icy heart within seconds. "Erik?" The man gave a gentle nod, watching as she turned slightly on the bed to peer up at him. Her eyes, however, first studied his frame. The lean shape of the past was gone now, seemingly melting away to give his new appearance. Though his face remained quite the same, pained and aging very very slowly over the years, the rest of him had changed.

His ribs stood out more, his skin a deathly pale colour, while his hands were still strong, but thinner looking. He looked so tired… So worn down from society… She planned to fix it all. To make him better again. Erik would be Erik soon enough. "How did you get there again? Why were you chained back up in that horrible place?" Her face was clouded with worry, confusion, as his gave way to darkness once more. His hand left hers, as he climbed to his height of 6'3", staring down at her with shadows dancing through his eyes. "It is not right to ask of me, Christine. Do not ask, please." But she persisted. "Erik, please… It took me five years to find you, and now I want to know why you were there. There has to be some sort of reason as to why you were-"

"_I choose to go back there. I went there myself, I gave my body to them for nothing! DO NOT ASK ME ANY MORE QUESTIONS!_"

To his words, Christine had gasped, her body shuffling back across the bed at the furious, righteous tone that had taken over her Angel's voice. He appeared shaken, ruffled, as he began to pace back and forth, his face in his hands, hiding his twisted features… "My mask… Christine… You have it, I saw it… My mask, please…" Biting her lip, the woman shook her head. "Nay, Erik… You're face is beautiful, please, you do not need to hide it from-"

"My mask! Just give it to me, Christine, please!"

Trembling, tears forming in her eyes, she reached down into her bag again and found the white porcelain, it's eye hole seeming to mock her as she slowly handed it to him. He was trembling. Gently, Erik took the mask and turned away from her, to replace it back over his features as he sank down to the floor, shaking. "I gave you what you wanted, Erik. Now tell me what I want." Christine's voice, as well as her face, held much determination, her shoulders squared as she stared down at him. "Tell me why you gave yourself away to them again. I want to know _everything_."

When Erik raised his face, Christine felt hurt beyond anything shoot through her body. He still didn't trust her… Why else would he want the mask? She very nearly jumped out of her skin as his voice, hoarse and tired sounded, rose up again…

"It happened right after the fire…"

Review, please! Love you all!


	3. Recall Those Days

**Recall Those Days**

**A/N: ((I'm absolutely thrilled with the many reviews that I've gotten! I didn't think my story would be this 'popular' (being modest, as it were) right away. The other story I wrote had a very slow beginning; then again, maybe **_**Phantom**_** is just more popular than **_**Moulin Rouge**_**. Again, thanks to everyone for the reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, or it's beautiful characters. I just make an idea, and steal them for a time. -shifty eyes-**

**I also apologize with the messy beginning; it started out as a one-shot, and then suddenly, here I was writing another chapter. The 'footnotes' of the first chapter appeared messy as well, so I'm fixing it here. And without further ado, before you all kill me for doddling, here it is…))**

How could she stop looking at the man? He was spread out on the bed beside her, mask in tact, head turned to the side, his eyes shut. She wished they were open. She adored that smoky jade colour, the hint of love hidden behind a mask of anger that she could see right through. But the pain… And the sorrow… It lingered there… Sighing softly, Christine raised her hand to gently stroke the man's brow, watching as he fidgeted and shifted beneath her gentle touch. She could feel dots of sweat across his forehead, and could see the way his face crinkled in looks that devastated her; he was having a nightmare. But it was calming, relaxing even, to see the man she had once through immortal sleeping like a normal human. Folding her arms over the pillow, Christine rested her head upon the crook of her elbows, and sighed once more, her chocolaty eyes surveying the white mask that hid his features from her loving gaze…

There had been an argument, about sleeping arrangements. Only one bed was in the rather small room. Erik insisted upon sleeping on the floor; 'It would be more comfortable,' he had said, while she insisted _he_ sleep upon the bed. Eventually, fed up with their heated words, Christine pointed to the bed and snapped at him, satisfied (but rather guilty) to see his shoulders sag in defeat. He had slumped down upon the bed, refusing to look at her, but she noticed the way his eyes widened in surprise as she too sank down beside him. '_If you are staying here for the night, I need to make sure you won't run away again. Or sleep on the floor._' And so, it stayed that way. Erik had fallen asleep some time ago, and now, he was snoring ever so gently, his face still dotted and marked with sweat and pain. He needed the bed to himself, the poor man… Quietly, skillfully, Christine made to slip off the bed, when a fierce growl and a warm but firm grip upon her wrist told her not to move. He didn't even have to speak words, and she knew where to go.

Laying back down beside him, Christine watched as his half opened eyes studied her closely, suspiciously, before closing again. His snoring resumed momentarily. She assumed that it was his deformed nostril that made it hard for him to breath properly… She also assumed that he had been half asleep as he stopped her himself. And to think, all this had started with a simple sentence…

'_It happened right after the fire…_'

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_The room was shrouded in shadows, but lit with failing torches in the darkness of the night. The man sat in a stiff wooden chair, uncomfortable, shifting in his seat as the other man across from the desk propped his dirty boots upon the table. "Erik… My old friend…It has been too long…" The Phantom-like man gave him a bitter smile, the crooked one that pulled on only the left side of his mouth. "Indeed." The cage master leaned forward, his scruffy brown beard and rough Russian accent suiting his shady character quite well. "You killed Jarvis. He was my best man, you know." A wicked grin met his words, to which the man scowled. "I didn't mean that as a joke, Devil's Child." Erik dipped his head in acknowledgement. His fingers were pressed together at the tips, resting upon his lower chest as he raised his gaze again. "Of course not, Stromboli. Now. To business."_

_Behind them, in the darkness, just outside the tent, stood the few men that Erik had found. A few tugs of a Punjab, a few threats, and the men had easily taken him along to the Gypsy camp. And now, here he sat. "To business. Aye, 'sir'." Stromboli leaned back in his chair, his hands folded behind his head, a cigar clenched firmly between rotten teeth. "Why have you come back, Erik? What purpose in life actually dragged you back to this miserable place?" The man sitting opposite Stromboli gave a bitter smile. "No purpose, good sir. Just that. No purpose." Arching a messy eyebrow, Stromboli sat forward a bit, his face lighting up with torchlight as he gave a wiry grin._

_"No purpose? No nothing? No spouse, no love, no family, no children?" Erik merely shook his head. But Stromboli saw the hesitance. He noticed it right away. "Ahh… But, being a corpse such as yourself, I should have guessed this…Tell me, Erik, did you loose something dear to you?" He had him now. The devils' spawn gripped the edge of his seat tightly, and with clipped lips and clenched teeth, he spoke. "Yes." The filthy grin across Stromboli's lips only grew. "Poor, poor corpse…" Erik's upper lip curled, his fists clenching tightly as he prepared to throw himself at the man… But if he was going to get anywhere, it was not through punching the man out…_

_"So…" Stromboli stood, and began pacing, watching Erik keenly, who now had his head bowed. "You were the cause of the Opera Populaire fire, yes?" He received a curt nod in reply. "This happened a week ago. What have you been doing since then?" Erik raised his face, but thankfully, it remained shrouded in shadows. The cage master came to a halt at the desk, his dirty hands splayed out across the table top as he watched him closely. The corpse was unpredictable… "Drinking. And searching for you." Stromboli's beady black eyes narrowed, as he clenched his teeth down onto the end of the cigar again, chewing thoughtfully… "Lean forward." There was a pause, before slowly, ever so slowly, the broad shoulders of a man came forward into the light… A strong neck, a steady jaw line and a dimpled chin, dusted with dark hair that was growing in… A defiantly cut cheek bone, and blood shot eyes… And ah… Here it was… The best part of the whole man himself…_

_Stromboli still couldn't help but gag (naturally, of course) at the sight of the man before him. While his eyes had steeled over the years, his face, it seemed, had just grown worse. True, the left side had become almost… Handsome, in a rugged sort of way, but the deformity… Visibly, Stromboli shivered. So much money… He could picture it now… "Corpse, if you don't mind me saying, you look like horse dung." Erik frowned, his lips turned downwards until they brightened with a bitter smile. "All the better." Stromboli cocked his head to the side, watching as Erik leaned back into the shadows. His eyes were rimmed red; obviously, he had been crying. And drinking. Obviously, something horrible must have happened. But what the Hell. Who gave a damn about a hideous man? Definitely not the one that had rejected him. Again._

_"So. You come here for business, yet you have not stated your means yet. Speak, corpse. I listen." Erik sat still for a moment or two, before a pained grin rose up on his lips. "I'd like to perform, one last time. To die here, in my real home, would be better than on the streets." For a moment, the cage master was silent, regarding him with beady eyes, his fat face dotted with sweat from the heat of the tent. "How much?," he barked, standing to his rather sad height of 5'3" again. Erik looked thoughtful for a moment, before shaking his head. "None. I just want somewhere to sleep, a bottle of alcohol when needed, and the times of the performances." Stromboli looked rather suspicious at first, his sweaty, flushed face staring at him closely, before- "Alright. Deal then, Monsieur." _

_"Excellent." Erik got to his feet, about to head out the door, when Stromboli gave a wicked grin. "Where do you think you're going, Corpse? You've got a performance in a few minutes." Confused, Erik turned to look back at the man, when a harsh and heavy weight smashed him over the head. His staggered, stars popping before his eyes, before it went dark. The last thing he saw was Stromboli's leering smile. "You're my new attraction, Erik…" When he awoke, the place was silent. He was in another tent, that much was certain… And the wind seemed to be whispering… No… That was not the wind… Groaning, the man turned his head on the filthy bottom of the cage, to peer out of the bars. A large crowd of people stood there, their faces dirty, their clothes torn and ragged. Their eyes were huge, staring at him…Until finally, one woman dropped to the floor in a dead faint._

_Gasping, Erik reached up to his face, but found his hands restricted. Chains held his wrists down to the bottom of the cage. His ankles, too… Struggling madly, Erik thrashed about, roaring angrily. This had not been part of the deal! Those damn Gypsies! People screamed, applauded, watching the living corpse put up a fight to the bonds. They gasped as one as the chains holding him down nearly tore up from the bottom of the cage, and jumped back in alarm. The whole place, however, including Erik, went silent as the ominous creak of a cage door sounded. Turning his throbbing head, he was met with a pair of dirty boots, that kicked him onto his front. A revolting smell came close to his nose, and he gagged, his eyes watering as the crowd began to cheer. Quietly at first, until it became a steady roar. "Devil's Child! Devil's Child! Devil's Child! DEVIL'S CHILD!"_

_The gypsy holding him down raised a dirty hand, unraveling something from about his wrist… It didn't take long for him to find out what it was. With a sharp leather snap and a scream of agony, the whip came down upon his broad, muscular back, again and again…_

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And that was the way it had been, for five years. Every few weeks, a bottle of rum, brandy, wine, or something of the sorts was shoved through to him, his weakened hands grasping it and drinking it greedily. His meek meals consisted of dirty bread, unclean water and the odd apple core that he hungrily and eagerly gnawed upon. Christine felt tears sting her eyes again as she watched the man that had for so long, been exposed to the world and it's cruelties. Even if he had gone back, the deal had not been right… "Oh, Erik…" Whispering the words, Christine shuffled closer to him upon the bed, resting her head every so gently upon his chest, listening to his steady heart beat as his arms and hands unconsciously curled about her tighter in his sleep…

**((Another chapter completed, in one day! Whew! This however, will be my last quick update (I think) for about a week or so. I'm sorry to disappoint you all! Erik's past will be revealed more and more throughout the story; that was really just a small part of it. And Christine's comes as well. Thank you all for reading! Enjoy!))**


	4. Look Back on All Those Times

**Look Back on All Those Times**

**((Oh wow… I'm still quite shocked that I've gotten all these reviews. It may not seem like a lot, but considering that I only had 16 reviews with **_**Above All Things, Love**_** when I had ****8**** chapters finished (with only 3 in this story), I can honestly say I'm impressed. Thanks to all you're uplifting words!**

**Disclaimer- I do not own Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters**

**Alrighty… Here we go… A little bit more of Erik's past is shown here- Christine's included. Enjoy!))**

"Erik?"

The room was silent. It was dawn outside; that much was certain. The air was dank and misty outside, while a lazy orange glow filled the sky. "Erik?" Her head was throbbing… Sleep had been impossible the night before, what with the man's horrible past still going through her mind. The blanket pooled about her waist, as she sat up in the bed, her head in her hands, fingers rubbing her temples. Oh… Shaking her head and blinking her blurry eyes, Christine stretched her arms above her head, the satisfying pull of muscles awakening her further. Of course, she was woken right away as a pair of smoky jade eyes blinked from the end of the bed, staring at her with a wide, distrustful expression.

Shrieking, Christine toppled off the bed, the blankets in her hands as she fell to the floor with a loud _thump_. Clutching them to her chest, she felt the flutter of her pounding heart against her rib cage, and gasped as the eyes that had been watching her suddenly revealed a full head and face. That face had an amused, and rather annoying smile upon it's lips. "Erik!" Christine stood up, rubbing her hand over her rear as the figure's lips curled into a sly smirk. "That wasn't funny! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" After some more scolding, and more smirks from Erik's direction, Christine took her place beside him, staring up at him with wide eyes.

"What were you doing, anyways?" Erik merely shrugged, his eyes looking away hesitantly, turning his mask towards her… "Erik." Visibly, the man flinched. She had spoken his name so strictly, so harshly… From behind his back, came the sound of a gentle twitter, wounded and barely heard, but Christine seemed to catch it. "Erik?" Again, that same tone. And again, the soft flinch from the man's direction. Then, ever so slowly, he drew his hands away from behind himself. In his large, rough palm was a tiny baby bird, it's feathers just barely grown in. Around it's gray wing was a tiny sling, tied ever so carefully and tenderly. Like a guilty boy caught with his mother's box of sweets, Erik bowed his head and drew his palm back, cradling the tiny animal close to his bare chest as it peeped quietly, curling up into the safety of his flesh.

Astonished, Christine felt her mouth fall open, her eyes widening in shock as the man glanced up at her sullenly. At her expression, his almost hopeful face fell and he gave a soft sigh. "I'll put it back…" Cradling and cuddling the tiny animal to his chest, Erik began to move towards the balcony, which, she noticed, was open. The lace curtain fluttered in the light wintry breeze, the sky becoming a shaded pink colour as the man drew away the fabric… He was halted by a small though strong hand holding onto his shoulder. Looking back over his shoulder, stroking the tiny bird's head, Erik found his eyes meeting Christine's, who was wearing a watery smile. "No, Erik… You keep him in here… It is too dangerous outside for such a small thing…" Slowly, the man turned again, his eyes holding much confusion as her smile widened.

"What? Did you honestly think I would let something else that you worked so hard on go again?" Christine's grip tightened upon his shoulder, as his look just became more confused. Slowly, however, his face changed, and became one of understanding and- dare she say it- trust. Yes… It appeared so… A hint of a smile spread across his lips, as Erik bent down towards a box that she had not spotted before. Ever so tenderly, the man set down the baby bird and stroked it's head fondly, giving a loving smile as it peeped quietly up at him. "Hush, my dove," he cooed, his thighs pressed to his chest as he closed the box. It was left open a crack, however, for the sake of the bird's life. After getting back to his feet, Erik was just turning about to the balcony when a pair of arms wrapped tightly about his torso.

Christine's wet cheek was pressed into his chest, tears streaming down her face as she laughed quietly. "Erik… I can't… Did I just see that?" Her arms held him tightly, his own spread awkwardly to the side, stiff and unyielding beneath her touch. "I'm not as heartless as you made me out to be, Christine." Erik's voice was quiet, but she could instantly detect the trace of bitterness behind his words. Drawing back, the woman raised her hand to his face, her thumb tracing over his lips which were turned down into a frown. As her fingertips brushed across the edge of his mask, he wrenched away from her touch, before stumbling backwards across the room. "Don't! Just-"

Surprise was evident across her beautiful but swollen-from-tears features as Erik wrenched away the lace curtains, to disappear onto the balcony. For a time, Christine could only stand there, standing and staring (but not seeing) at the balcony of which Erik, her love, had just disappeared through. The man that she had taken from the cage was not the same man. It was a bitter man, a silent man, that refused to speak let alone show any real emotion. Her heart beat painfully against her chest with every rejection he passed her; whether it was something as simple as running from her touch, or his ignorance to her as a complete whole. But she knew something… She knew she could change him… She had seen what one little show of compassion could do to Erik, and with those, eventually, he would succumb. It was just a matter of time, to gain his trust, his love again… And every single little moment would be spent working as hard as she could on it.

She made not a sound as she drew apart the fluttering lace curtain. Her shoulders were relaxed, her face free of tears; quite the contrast to the man standing with his back to her. Christine's features contorted into pain for the man who gripped the banister so tightly, whose shoulders were rigid and raised, and whose head was bowed in complete shame. A sharp pain touched her heart as she watched the salty droplets of water shed down his cheeks and fall to the ground far below. The sky was still a pinkish hue as she folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the wall behind her. Erik was silent, his shoulders moving up and down slightly, which she followed with her eyes.

"Why?"

The man that stood before her started and spun around, his hands gripping the balcony even tighter behind him as Christine shook her head slowly, her eyes holding his sadly. "Why, Erik?" Erik looked quite speechless, his eyes lowered towards the floor, his mouth pressed into a thin line as Christine shook her head slowly again. "I know you are a man of few words," she stated, cutting over him as he opened his mouth to protest, "but I did not think that you had actually gone this soft over time." Anger flashed across Erik's features, as he stiffened before her very eyes. Perfect. "Excuse me if I haven't really had someone to talk to for the past five years!" Snapping at her, the man growled softly, his fingers unclenching from the balcony to clench into fists at his sides.

A chance to hear the man's voice… More of his story… But if she wasn't careful, she could end up with an even larger problem on her hands. And although she knew she was provoking him horribly, she also knew that Erik would never, ever hurt him. No matter how much she had wronged him the past, she knew it was against himself to ever hurt a woman. She hoped. "It _is_ your fault that you had no one to talk to, I do believe… After all, you were the one who-"

"_You think I wanted that? You think I really wanted to go back there? You think I had a __**choice**_"

The sudden change of tone that Erik permitted warned her immediately that she had gone too far. Christine's eyes flickered, her face looking away in shame as Erik's voice lowered to a dangerous hiss.

"_For twelve years, Christine, __**twelve years**__, I taught you, and loved you… But I never got so much as a single look back. Do you know what that did to me? What that…_What… How horrible…" Dropping his face into his hands, Erik fell silent, his shoulders stiff and his back just as so as she bit her lower lip. When Erik raised his face again, she was shocked to see a look of utter confusion on his face.

"I think the real question, Christine, is why you came back for me. Why did you come and get me, when people had tried so hard to keep me away? To _kill_ me?" His breathing was haggard, his eyes (which had been burning in hate moments before) toned down to a meek, dull glow that made her heart jump into her throat. She couldn't do this to him… She couldn't keep it a secret, any longer… "At my wedding…" Erik's head snapped up, his jaw tensed, his eyes avoiding her own as she sucked in a harsh breath of air. "At my wedding, Erik… I saw you… You were there… I know you were…" With a simple nudge of his chin, he asked her, 'so what?' throughout his actions. All she could do was laugh quietly. But bitterly.

"I remember it, so well, Erik…"

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_Laughter and loud voices rang all throughout the church. It was a huge day, but a short notice- And yet, everyone seemed to have shown up. The bride was smiling, her lips pulled into a fake look that nobody seemed to notice. One person did. He could see right through it… The church was so hot, but the bride looked like a vision of white, her groom equally as handsome. She was escorted up the aisle by a man dressed in black, as more watery smiles erupted everywhere. He didn't smile. He remained impassive, cold… But had anyone been sitting near him, they would have noticed the immense air of horrible, gut-wrenching sorrow that lingered over him._

_The priest talked slowly, his white beard glimmering in the light as vows were exchanged. Everyone from the Populaire was there. Nobody seemed to care that only mere hours before, the bride had caused their only home to burn to the ground… It was not her fault, after all._

_"I do."_

_The words were spoken in the quiet of the place, before the organ burst back into life. The audience rose, applauding, their eyes filled with tears as they smiled and waved to the newly married couple. But Christine de Changy was still wearing that fake smile, that upturn of her lips which was killing her inside. In the very back corner, as her eyes lingered over the faces, there was a group of shadows, distant, cold and forgotten… Only she seemed to see the pair of golden eyes that watched her, before looking away. Only she saw the inhuman sadness, the immense torture of the soul as the shadow seemingly melted away into nothingness…_

_The crowd outside was congested, every person talking excitedly of the new marriage. Paris was astounded that the Vicomte, a very wealthy and noble man, had chosen a scandalous diva as his wife- but the Opera-Goers who worked there day and night were absolutely pleased. With any luck, the rebuilding of the Populaire would start in a few weeks… As Raoul pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, Christine gave a warm smile- her first real one all evening- before he dashed off to order a carriage for them. Congratulations were exchanged, but in a few moments, she was left alone. The crowd around her talked to each other, their backs to her… It was then that the exhaustion weighed down on her, then when her shoulders sagged and her body drooped under the immense pressure she had been under. It was also then, that a warm hand gripped her shoulder gently. "Oh, Raoul… Thank goodness, I was starting to get-"_

_"Congratulations, __**Vicomtess**__. I hope your marriage is a happy one." _

_But from the sound of that voice, it meant anything __**but**__ happiness… Gasping, Christine shut her eyes, pleading to God that it would be over, that it was just her imagination… Yet, at that very same moment, joy bubbled up in her chest like nothing she had ever known. "Oh… Angel, my Angel, I'm… I don't know… I'm so sorry…" When she turned, all she saw was a black, cloaked figure, it's hood drawn up to cover his face, moving like a shadow between the crowds of people… But she had caught a glimpse of his face… And it had been like nothing she had ever seen._

_His face had been absolutely torn apart with disbelief, with anger, with longing and near suicidal sorrow. He had shaken his head, turning away swiftly to move, unseen, between the people. Immediately, lifting her long wedding gown, Christine tore after the figure, who was walked calmly between a group of older women. As she attempted to dart through, they all caught her, beaming in pride and congratulating her. "Thank you, yes, thank you, but I really must-" He was gone. When she had raised her face, to look for that same figure, he was gone._

_Agony tore at her chest, as she felt the first of many tears slip down her cheeks. Sobbing, she dashed away from the women, who all gave smiles. "Love can be so confusing, the poor child…" _

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"Why didn't you stay?"

Christine's voice was bitter, almost angry, but frighteningly calm as Erik met her gaze again. "Why didn't you talk to me? Why didn't you tell me, Erik?" The man merely shrugged, but with a furious cry, Christine dove at him. Her fists pounded against his chest, her eyes full of rage as she screamed at him. "Do you know how hard it was for me, Erik, to watch you walk away?! To watch you leave, and never come back?!" Her pounding fists unclenched, spreading into fingers upon his skin as her face fell into his chest, sobbing now… And ever so tenderly, she could feel his arms wrap about her, holding her against him as his heart thundered against her ear.

"The paper said you were dead… Raoul gave me the paper, a few weeks after that, and it said: **ERIK IS DEAD** in big capital letters… To me, they looked like they were written in blood… Oh, Erik…" As she gripped him tighter, his arms pulled her closer, his face coming to rest in her hair as she gasped against his chest, hiccupping softly, before looking up at him. His heart still raced beneath her chin, as she swallowed back the lump in her throat. "It killed me that day, to see that headline… It killed me…" Shaking her head, Christine sighed and pressed her cheek to his chest again, trembling as he held her so close…

"Please don't leave me again, Erik… I could not survive if you did…" When she raised her face again, Christine was astonished to see tears coating his cheeks, a thin and exhausted smile pulling on his lips as he looked down upon her. His rough thumb brushed away her tears as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I never will."

**((I'm sorry this took so long to update! Enjoy this chapter, and review, please! Thanks again, guys.))**


	5. A Kiss Long Forgotten

**A Kiss Long Forgotten**

**((With my exams having finished a few weeks ago, I'm sad to say that I was side-tracked for a while to study. And after that, my friends decided that they wanted to re-enact **_**The Phantom of the Opera**_** for extra drama marks and fun. I'm happy to announce I shall be playing our very own Christine. Anyways! Onwards we go!**

**Disclaimer - I do not own **_**Phantom**_** or any of it's characters. I only to get to act and play as 'em.))**

By the time the sun was about mid-set in the sky, Christine decided that Erik could not survive solely upon just a pair of black trousers and a white, long sleeve, ruffled shirt; while it was a trademark of the former Phantom, they would also not stand long enough for the next few weeks with her intense rehabilitation she was going to impose upon him. Besides the fact that she needed a few filler foods and some entertainment to keep them amused… It was hard, keeping Erik entertained. And while he would shake his head like a mute when she asked if he was bored, she could quite clearly see that the intense man she knew before was getting to that point again.

The simple fact was that Erik was a restless soul, when it came down to it. There was moments of peace with him, yes, but it was not often that they came around. Christine saw them when he slept, but even then, he was tense, uneasy and full of restlessness; the sweat that dotted his brow and his eyes flickering behind closed lids was just a hint of the deep loss of trust he had gained over the years. This was why, now, she was deciding to keep her quiet ghost amused.

His keen eyes, which had been staring dreamily out the balcony, studied her intently from the bed, his back propped up against the head board as she tied the loose chords of her dress tight around her waist. Erik's smoky jade gaze narrowed suspiciously, as he sat up a bit more. A peep of protest sounded from his blanketed lap, a pair of tiny black eyes peering up at him indignantly from his thin, though muscular thighs. As Christine's gaze met his from across the room, he lifted his chin and tipped his head to the side, studying her closely as she made a soft scoffing sound in the back of her throat, scolding him. "What? Am I not allowed to go out every now and then?"

It didn't take long at all for Erik's expression to morph and change. His narrowed eyes widened in shock, and his face fell in disappointment. Immediately, Christine felt guilty for scolding him, but she supposed it was for the best. Turning away for a moment, the woman looked in the mirror, fixing her long, wild hair up, before it all fell from her hands as she jumped. His quiet, though very deep and dark voice sounded throughout the room, the very wood that made the place up quivering under the tone. "Where are you going?" Looking back at him over her shoulder, Christine felt her heart melt at his look that now resembled a small boy afraid of being left alone.

Turning her whole body around, she came over to his side, deciding to ignore the way he tensed and tried to shift away from her touch. Christine's dark brown eyes held his own smoky ones, which held fear and disappointment, as a gentle smile touched her lips. "Erik, I just need to go out for a little while. Just a couple of stores, and perhaps the market, but that is it. Now, I know you're not always a patient man-" She received a scowl from his direction at this, but she merely continued on with a smile, "-but I know that you can wait for a couple of hours…"

She felt like squirming under his intense gaze as he studied her. How did he know that she wasn't lying? The look on her face was sincere, but it was the one in her eyes that gave it all away. She wasn't lying. She only meant good… He thought… With a soft sigh, Erik's features fell away to impassion again, and he shrugged, looking down to the peeping creature on his legs as it attempted to get his attention. "Will you be alright by yourself, Erik?" Christine's sweet voice broke the silence that he had induced, as he looked up again, sullenly. "Yes… I suppose…"

With another gentle smile, Christine's hand came to the man's forehead, stroking the unmasked portion of his face, while her fingers ran through the loose strands of dark hair that hung down there. She came to sit beside him then, her smile widening at his confused look which came from her tender touch. "If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't leave you alone. I just need _you_ to trust _me_. Can you do that, Erik?" With ever so gentle movements, Christine came to sit upon his knees, facing him, while the tiny baby bird between them fell silent. No doubt, it felt safe, nestled into Erik's lap while Christine kept it protected from another side. Her hands held his face gently, his naked chest rising and falling steadily as his eyes glazed over dreamily. He did not seem to notice as her fingers ever so gently peeled away the white mask that covered his features. After placing it upon the side table, Christine leaned forward and brushed several kisses across his forehead, cheeks and altogether naked face, as he closed his eyes and breathed out a gentle, loving sigh. As Erik tilted out his chin expectantly, awaiting a kiss to his lips, he was quite disappointed when one did not come. Christine was peering at him now, studying his calm features with careful eyes, as her hands held both of his cheeks.

"I will be back soon…" Nuzzling her cheek into his deformed one, Christine stayed like that for a few minutes, one hand held over his opposite cheek, while the other rested over his heart, which beat with a gentle flutter beneath her fingers. Stroking his skin fondly, she pressed a swift kiss to her malformed skin, and gently slid off the bed, holding back a smile as the baby bird instantly began peeping again. It wasn't until Erik cupped his hands around it that it fell silent, his gaze, which was unable to meet her own, fixed upon the little beak he saw poking out between his fingers. His neck felt raw, his eyes wet, as he cleared his throat and then leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling.

Tying up her thick winter cloak, Christine picked up her basket made of woven straw, and gave the man a warm smile. "Erik?" Raising his face, but not quite meeting her eyes, the man made a soft 'hum' sound in the back of his throat, staring down at his hands again as the room fell silent for a moment. "I love you." Startled, the former Phantom looked up, but the door was already open and she was half way out. Slowly, however, she paused, and looked back at him, her features stern as she finally met his gaze. "Promise me you will not leave this room." All she received as an answer was a nod, but it was good enough for her. A smile returned to her lips, gentle and loving, before the door was shut behind her. He could still hear her diminishing footsteps down the wooden hallway as he sighed and whispered to the now still air…

"I love you too…"

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How she loved the market! The past few days had been torn away from her, as it were, but she didn't seem to mind, for everyone was in bright spirits to see her again. Smiling charmingly, Christine walked briskly and lightly down the cobble-stoned streets, the sweet, mouth-watering scent of freshly baked bread wafting through the air. There was light chatter all around, bright smiles and hagglers calling to the passing crowd, people bargaining with others… "Christine!" A blonde woman was waving to her, as she passed by an apple stand. Coming to a halt before the promising green fruits, she passed the woman a warm hug over the stand, her eyes closing as she smiled.

"It has been too long, my dear! Come now, have you been out man-hunting again?" Marie, the woman who owned the stand, smiled devilishly as Christine's cheeks burned a bright pink colour. "Perhaps. But, then again…" Leaning forward, Christine let her lips touch to Marie's ear, as she smiled. "Maybe I finally found him…" Gasping in shock, the older, stouter woman tore away, her mouth shaped into a fine 'O' as she clapped her hands joyfully. "Oh, _non_! You lie!" Christine shook her head, now giggling slightly as Marie held a hand to her breast and shrieked in a high voice. "Gaston! Gaston, get out here now, you lazy lump!" Within moments, a tall, black haired gentlemen had stepped out, his gray eyes twinkling playfully. Although gray dusted his once ink black hair, Christine could honestly say that Gaston was the least laziest person she knew. Besides Erik, that is.

"What is it now, woman? You tear me from my work, just to-" This all stopped as the teasing Gaston laid eyes upon Christine. With a sound of joy, he reached over the stand and bear-hugged her, a goofy grin upon his lips as Marie leaned up and whispered in his ear. His look changed into one of 'jealously', gray eyes flashing with 'anger' as he held up his two fists. "Why, if I ever run into said man, I'll knock him to the ground! How dare he steal my Christine from me!" Giggling again, the slender, former Prima Donna merely waved her hand and shook her head. "Good bye, you two! I've got much shopping to get done before this day is over!"

After some arguing about giving her free apples from their stand, and some more merry good-byes, Christine set off to finish her shopping, which, surprisingly, did not take long at all. After picking up three new white shirts for Erik, and two pairs of black trousers for him, a little food to snack upon, and a box of children's game for the pair, Christine decided to return home. It was not until, however, something bright caught her eye, that she could not help but gasp. The most beautiful looking fiddle happened to be in the window, it's mahogany wood gleaming in the bright sunshine, while it's black wooden bow and taut strings begged to be played. Mesmerized, she drew her purse from her pocket, and shook it. A few francs were still left inside… Fair enough…

Nearly five minutes later, the fiddle was tucked safely into her package of things, as she set off down the road again. Could Erik play the fiddle? Of course he could! He could play any instrument! He was, of course, the Phantom… But what if he couldn't? What if it had been a waste of money? No, no… He was the Phantom. Again, the thought ran through her mind, as her hand closed about the knob to the door leading into the Hotel. When had she gotten here? Startled from her thoughts, Christine shook her head, a tiny smile playing about her lips, as she entered the finely kept place.

It did not take very long for her to notice that there was something odd indeed about the place. A few of the guests seemed… Shaken, to say the least… Others, still, appeared as though nothing had happened, while a few of the guests looked like the living daylights had been scared out of them. Pursing her lips, and with a frown creasing her fair brow, Christine stepped onto the stairs and began to long journey to the fifth floor- her and Erik's room… Number 51 was near the end of the hallway, but she was so immersed in her thoughts that it did not take long at all. Even as the key slid into the lock, and the door was opened, Christine did not seem to notice anything. However, a horrified scream was barely kept down, as her eyes beheld the sight before her.

Oh yes, the room was clean enough, nothing out of place… "Oh, Monsieur! You scared me!" The two men in the room, however, looked as though neither one was ready to have a light banter with her. Her basket had slipped to the floor, it's contents spilling everywhere across the wood. While one man was seated upon the bed, and _on top_ of another man, the other was lying beneath him, scowling fiercely and putting up a struggle as well. The man lying on the bed had a bloody, purple bump that was swelling as they spoke on his forehead, while the other had a split lip. The one with the split lip was the one that spoke first, jumping up from the bed to reveal that the other man was tied up.

"I had one simple rule for you to follow. _One simple rule._ When you brought him to me, unconscious, when I helped you up the stairs with him, I did not know he would be this stubborn a man." Scowling, the manager of the hotel, whose name was Jack pointed to the sneering Erik, who was tied up and bleeding. "My rule was for you to keep him safe, hidden away from my guests, so that nothing bad would happen. And what did you do? YOU LET HIM LOOSE ON MY HOT-"

"Monsieur Jack, I'm so sorry! Oh, Erik… Erik, how could you? What was _my_ rule to you?!" Christine looked absolutely devastated that her trust had been broken, and instantly, Jack's heart melted. His features softened, as the woman's eyes filled with tears. The whole room seemed to go silent, even the peeping of the bird going quiet as Christine's upper lip quivered. "I trusted you…" Blinking, Erik watched as the tears tried to flow, but she had long since made herself immune to them. Lifting her face, she bravely met Jack's gaze, and tried on a curtsy. "I swear, it won't happen again. I'm-"

She didn't get to say anything else, for suddenly, she was in a tight embrace. Surprised, shocked, even, Christine stood still, her chin resting on Jack's shoulder, as he gave a slight smile. "It should be I to apologize, Christine… It was silly of me, to think that you would not try to stop him…" As Christine's eyes fluttered shut, she never realized that Erik was staring intently at her. She did not see the way his heart cracked, or the way his face fell to sorrow. She did not see the jealousy, or the pain written upon his features as he turned his face away, to 'fall asleep'. Only when Jack drew back, and there was some soft discussions, before he left, did she realize that Erik was not exactly asleep.

After picking up the dropped items, and heading to the bathroom to find a wet clothe, Christine came to seat herself upon the edge of the bed, next to Erik. His eyes were shut, his breathing soft, as she tenderly reached out. Touching his jaw, Christine turned his head, and with a just as tender hand, brushed the clothe across the bump upon his forehead. Instantly, a hand caught her wrist, another snaking about her waist, while his smoky jade eyes snapped open. With movements far too swift for someone who was supposed to be bed ridden, Erik rolled her over, pinning her down beneath him as she gasped softly.

"Erik, what-"

All words were lost to his hungry mouth, as it crashed down over hers, taking her lips into a fierce, but adoring kiss. Crying out in surprise, then whimpering in pleasure, Christine's eyes fluttered shut, her hands squeezing his shoulders, as their passionate kiss slowly dwindled to a halt. Laying beneath him, panting from the need to breath, Christine's eyes fluttered open, and she gazed upon him with star-struck eyes. "Erik… What… What was that… F-" Again, words were lost to his mouth, and bright lights appeared before her eyes as she was dazzled from the passion. Finally, as they drew apart, Erik's fingers trailed ever go gently across her cheek, his thumb brushing her swollen bottom lip, before he whispered in a low voice. "You forgot to give me a goodbye kiss. I followed you, to get one, but that damn manager got his men to knock me out and down before I could find you…"

Tears filled Christine's eyes as she looked up at him, suddenly aware of the little bit of space between them that she wanted to be rid of. Pulling on his shoulders, she lowered him down until their bodies were pressed together, and just barely brushing her lips against his, whispered in as low as voice as his. "Then I promise to give you a goodbye kiss every time I leave this room…" At that moment in time, a miracle happened, she claimed. A beautiful smile pulled at his lips, their foreheads pressed together, as he whispered back to her. "A goodbye kiss, just like this? _Every_ time?" Nodding, Christine gripped his back tighter, and lifted her lips to his ear. "Every time. Just like this…"

Without a single word more, their lips were claimed again by one another, as the smile merely grew upon Erik's face…

**((Hmmm… Perhaps upping the story to an M rating in the future? Who knows. But for now… Read, enjoy, review! -bows-))**


	6. Moonlight Sonata

**Moonlight Sonata**

**((To my readers- I'm terribly sorry for the hugggggeeeee long wait that I created; granted, it wasn't a very fun wait for me, but I had no idea how to keep up the story, or really, the time anyways!**

**Disclaimer - I do not own Phantom or any of it's characters in any shape, fashion or form.**

**Thanks again!**

**When we last left off: Christine went out for a trip to the market, only to come home (to the Hotel) to utter and complete disaster! All is well, however… For now…))**

"Sir?" The room was silent, when he entered… Of course, it was. The only lights that met his eyes happened to be a few candles, their wicks beginning to smolder and die with the shadows that threatened to engulf them. "Sir?" Again, the timid tone, and again, no answer. Barely had the servant stepped into the room further, when a maddeningly tight hand grasped his neck, wringing it without mercy… He was going to die…

Wildly, panicking, the gnarled old hands of the servant swung at his attacker's, weakening against the tightening and hot hold of the other man's… His face swiftly turning purple in the low lights, the servant let out a croak akin to a toad, but made of three words. "Please… My… Lord…" With a startled gasp, the victim slid to the floor, air heaving into his desperate lungs as he clawed as his pained neck.

"Speak louder next time you enter, fool!" A great, angry voice filled the old man's ears, but the sound was a mere mutter, as the same hands that had moments before, attempted to end his life, helped him from the floor. Brushing his coat tails, made of the finest materials, and marked with a coat of arms, the servant bowed low, and spoke through one side of his mouth. "Forgive me, my Lord. I shan't do it again…" When he raised his face, he looked anywhere but at the man before him, who brushed his hands through his hair, clearly agitated…

The room looked like some kind of sick shrine, dedicated to a woman… There was a wedding dress, in one corner, laid gently over a chair. There was picture upon picture of her, large brown eyes, and unruly curled hair. Despite her wild mane of hair, the woman was quite beautiful, with pale, porcelain skin. Even the grainy black and white of the photos could not conceal that… By the time the blue, almost milky eyes arrived back on his Master, the man had seated himself in a chair, by a slowly dying fire.

The embers illuminated his face. A strong, handsome face… He wore black trousers, as was customary for upper class folks, and a white shirt, peeking open to reveal the board chest. A silver cross hung about his neck, resting against the warm skin. His hair fell to his shoulders, a light brown colour, it seemed, and the beautiful crystal blue eyes did not go unnoticed by many a woman. He seemed greatly agitated however, unease swirling in those beautiful, but cold eyes…

"I'm sorry, my friend. I must be more careful… I just… He's…" Bowing his head low, the servant spoke most humbly, a faint smile tracing his lips. "'Tis no matter, my Lord. I've suffered through worse…" A memory, as clear as day, rose to his old mind, of a man, quite similar to the one before him, drawing a wipe down upon his back for disobedience… Shaking his graying head, the servant passed a quick glance back to his Master, who now paced with fierce, keen eyes upon the thick carpet of the library.

"Sir… I was told to summon you. You're dinner is ready…" The servant bowed most humbly again, almost down upon his knees now, which trembled from old age and arthritis. The younger man, clearly in his mind twenties, sighed and nodded, a half shrug that tugged on his shoulder as though he was ridding of an ache. "I will be down, then, Marius." The servant smiled, backing away in a low, stooped bow, towards the door. "Shall I set a place for-"

"For the Madame? No… I don't think she's coming back, Marius…"

A gentle hand clasped his shoulder, then. It was shaking, and gnarled, but gentle none the less. "Have faith, Monsieur Raoul. Have faith."

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The night was absolutely perfect. Breathtaking, in all it's beauty… He loved beautiful things. A diamond, and a butterfly, were equal in his eyes. To love beauty, was to forget about his own cursed ugliness… His hands clenched the stone banister tightly, his green eyes wide and peaceful, taking in all that there was to take… It was such a pity, that he could not walk among all those beautiful couples, like a normal person…

Indeed, couple after couple passed near his window, the soft strains of a merry violin tune sounding somewhere far down the road. It would get louder, every time the door swung open to the bar, before dimming again. His back ached, and his feet felt numb from the cold… But his heart ached more. It drummed a sad tattoo into his soul, marking his sorrow… Why, God, did he have to be like this? What vile, evil crime (or crimes) did he commit in his mother's womb? Had she not loved him, when he was growing? But then she saw his face… Everything had shattered with that.

Or maybe it was just the fact that God knew he would already be a terrible soul before he was born… Maybe that was it… Christine didn't think so, though… Oh, why did she care for him? Did she not see what mistake there was in that? Why him? Why him, of all people? She was seated behind him, in the Hotel room… The light that filtered through the curtains was golden in colour, warm and beckoning… But he didn't want it. He was not allowed it. He could not touch it… Or so it seemed. Through the disturbed curtains, he could catch sight of her pale fingers turning another page in the book she was reading. It had been a quiet night, neither speaking much, neither willing to break the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two…

Words didn't need to be spoken between them. It was a shared bond of peace, one that he knew, he could shatter without a moment's hesitation. But something held him back from doing that… Was it the urge to not break her heart, like he had before? Ahh… Had it not been her to break his heart though? Too many thoughts… He didn't like it. Shaking his head again, Erik finally allowed the little bit of liquid lingering in the corner of his right eye go, feeling it trail down his cheek in a steady path. It fell to the ground of the balcony, hardly making a sound, but to him, it was as though everything he had come to love and know shattered with that sound…

It was not so. He knew it wasn't. Sighing softly, Erik turned about slowly, stiffly, before heading quietly back into the shared room of theirs. Christine hardly looked up from the book as he passed her, but he could feel her eyes watching him from the corners of her gaze. Erik did not speak as he reached into the small bag Christine had brought home with her the day before. Quietly, his fingers groped about, until he found what he was looking for. The gleaming mahogany caught on the lights, sending his heart in a passionate blaze, the instrument one of the finest he had seen in a long time. The bow came out moments later.

Without a single word more, Erik stepped from the bag and took his spot on the balcony once more, the cold air instantly numbing his bare feet and chest again. Tucking the beloved stringed instrument beneath his strong chin, Erik placed the bow upon the fiddle's top, and as though the song was wrenched from his very soul, began to play. It was a classical piece, one that many people knew, but could not hum, for fear of ruining such a beautiful sound… The very air around him seemed to shush, all the sounds going quiet as if the world stopped to listen to the beautiful strains of the fiddle.

The fiddle was supposed to be a merry instrument, but the mysterious figure standing a top the balcony of room 51 at the Hotel de Aire made it seem as though a whole orchestra played the sorrowful, but incredibly beautiful melody. The couples standing below all stopped, each looking upwards, as the sky of Paris itself slowly settled into a tranquil twilight… Erik never registered any of this, his entire body put into the piece, even swaying slightly, as the curtain shifted behind him again. A pair of keen, bright brown eyes studied him, watching the heart-sick man closely, just taking him in…

That night, all of Paris could have sworn that an Angel itself had played _Moonlight Sonata_, written by Beethoven, for everyone to hear…

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"Sir… We've had a violinist come in to play for you, during you're meal. Does this appease you?" The servant was a young girl, hardly older than fifteen it seemed. Her hands curled nervously into the folds of her dress, as the Vicomte looked up from his full plate. "Yes… I suppose…" The words were spoken more on a sigh, then anything, as the servant girl hurriedly nodded and rushed from the room. Moments later, she came with a man in tow, whose face was quite relaxed.

He looked old, older than fifty years, but his hands were strong and steady as he reached into the casket before him. "What song would your Lordship prefer to hear this evening?" The violinist spoke in the calmest of tones, his eyes an almost purple colour, as the Vicomte waved his hand, irritated. It looked as though he was trying to brush away an annoying fly. The musician's mouth set into a grim line, though he bowed low and spoke in soft tones once more. "Perhaps you would enjoy to hear _Moonlight Sonata_, sir?"

No answer. Another brush of the hand, a disgruntled cough, as the young Vicomte raised a full wine goblet to his lips. "Certainly, sir." Without a single word more, the musician raised the violin, placed it beneath his chin, and closed his eyes. The soft strains of the violin were soft, played for none but the rich bastard in his chair. They were all the same… Filthy rich, rude and 'all-powerful'… But this was different… There seemed to be a pain, one that could not be forgotten easily, in the young Vicomte's eyes…

It would be wise, he knew, not to worry the young Master…

'_Oh, Christine… Why did you fly from my arms? Was I not enough for you? You promised you would be back… You promised… But you are gone…_'

**((Ooooooh. More intense. Haha. A few new characters, I know… Well… Not really 'new'. A plot coming up? You bet! I can try to find the song **_**Moonlight Sonata**_** on the web, if you're curious. Just check my profile, and I'll have a link up. Enjoy, lovelies!)) **


	7. My Readers

**My dearest readers -**

**I'm sad to inform you that this story has run out on me completely. But, I do have some good news! I have a new story on the go. You can find it at my profile. It's called 'Everyone Loves a Hero'.**

**It is also an Erik and Christine story. I hope you enjoy it, if you take a look at it!**

**Thanks,**

**PhantomPhreak**


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